


The Broken Road

by icandrawamoth



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (specifically Empathetic Bond), Accidental Bonding, Alpha Phichit Chulanont, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Sex, Big Bang Challenge, Bonding, Catharsis, Drunkenness, Empathy, Fights, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Kissing, M/M, Making Up, Male Friendship, Mating, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, POV Lee Seung Gil, Self-Lubrication, Soul Bond, Tags Are Fun, Telepathic Bond, Telepathy, YOI Shit Bang 2017, non-consensual bonding, omega lee seung gil, use of the morning after pill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 05:53:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11961066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: When Seung-gil enlists Phichit to help him through his heat, they agree not to bond, but a spur of the moment mistake changes both their lives forever. Can you still have a happy ending when you're irrevocably connected to someone you don't love?





	The Broken Road

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for yoi-shit-bang on Tumblr, the first big bang I've ever done! Unfortunately, my artist ghosted, so there's no art to go with with, but I'm still glad I got this written.
> 
> Two things before we start that are probably clear from the summary, but I dont' want to disappoint or upset anyone:  
> 1\. The Seung-gil/Phichit relationship is in reference to the sex scene; it's not romantic or endgame.  
> 2\. The sex in this fic is 100% consensual (give or take the ymmv that it's heat sex); it's just the forming of the bond itself that is unplanned and happens in the heat of the moment.

Suppressants aren't a perfect system. If you're lucky enough to have the exact right body chemistry, cycle, and dosage, they might stop your heats entirely. Otherwise, they'll make them less frequent or much less intense.

For Seung-gil, it's a combination of the last two. Instead of the natural monthly cycle, his suppressants give him a heat about every three months, though blessedly shorter and lighter than a normal heat. Ones he can take a day or two off of practice from and manage to get through by himself. And, lucky for him, they almost never seem to land during a competition.

Today, though, he has absolutely no luck going for him. He's in Grenoble, France, for his second Grand Prix event. He's placed well in the short program, tomorrow afternoon is the free skate, and he's just gone into heat – a more intense one than he's had since before he went on the suppressants.

He's pacing his hotel room, drinking a glass of cold water and periodically wiping his face with an already soaked and discolored white hotel washcloth, trying to beat back the hot flashes. He can feel the strange sensation of his body loosening, preparing for him to be more easily mated. There's already slick trickling out of him, and it's bound to get worse.

And then there's the _want_. The way he aches, both physically and emotionally, for an alpha by his side, _inside him_. His hands shake with it as he makes himself sit, clenching his fingers around the folds of his jeans and trying to breathe. It's never like this, and he never realized how grateful he was for that.

Seung-gil drops the cloth and pushes two fingers into his mouth, worrying them gently with his teeth, whining around them – then realizes what he's doing and pulls them out, groaning in frustration. There's no way he's going to able to concentrate and make himself competitive in this condition. After placing third at his other Grand Prix competition, he has a chance if he's at the top of his game, but that's not going to happen like this.

Another pang of pure _want_ goes through him, and Seung-gil grits his teeth. He barely manages to fish his phone out of his pocket with shaking fingers and dial the number of the one person he can think of to help him.

* * *

It's less than five minutes later when the knock comes at the door, but even so, it seems like an insurmountable task to drag himself across the room to answer it. Somehow, though, he manages it. It may have something to do with his heat-acute senses picking up the reassuring smell of alpha through the door.

Phichit's eyes widen as he steps into the room. “Jesus, Seung-gil, you look awful.”

Seung-gil would laugh if he didn't feel so much like crying. “I _feel_ awful,” he mutters, pressing the door closed behind his friend and leaning against it. Everything in him is crying out to throw himself at the alpha, but he holds himself back with intense effort. Phichit hasn't agreed to anything yet, and it's not like a casual alpha/omega fuck is that easy, anyway.

“I thought you were on suppressants?” Phichit asks, concern on his face. He backs away a few steps into the room, and Seung-gil is at once relieved and bereft.

“I am,” the Korean skater answers, and it comes out as a whine. “I don't know why it's so bad this time.”

“Stress?” Phichit ventures. “You _are_ trying to hit the GPF for the first time. Or it could just be a fluke of your cycle.”

“It doesn't matter,” Seung-gil groans. “I just need it to go away.”

“So are you asking me to...take care of you?” Phichit asks delicately and in a complete failure of tact.

Seung-gil moans and turns to press his cheek against the coolness of the door. “I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Is this weird? It's weird.” He shivers as his body responds to Phichit's alpha presence, growing ever more hot and loose.

Phichit actually grins. “It's like one of those stories the skating superfans would write. But it's okay. I'm your friend, Seung-gil; I'm happy to help. Just tell me exactly what you want.”

Seung-gil squeezes his eyes closed for a long moment, pressing tighter against the door as if he can somehow escape the situation. “I just want you to-” The words die in his mouth as the his face colors – if it can get any redder than the heat is already making it.

“You can say it,” Phichit encourages, and Seung-gil shivers, because it sounds like he's gotten closer.

Seung-gil takes a deep breath and pushes the words out: “I want you to knot me. With the- with the suppressants, I think just once should be enough.” He opens his eyes and makes himself look at Phichit. “No bond. Can you...do you think you can do that?”

“My self-control is legendary,” Phichit brags. He takes step closer, and Seung-gil can see how his eyes have gone wide and dark, his own alpha instincts responding to the omega in heat in the room. The gray orbs glint. “And it would literally be my pleasure.” He pauses. “You're on birth control?”

Seung-gil shakes his head, frustration building in his body at having Phichit so close but no contact between them. “I'll get a morning-after pill tomorrow. Now, please, Phichit...”

A frown creases the Thai's brow. “Are you sure that's what you want?”

“Yes, Phichit, yes, it's fine, it's just a pill,” Seung-gil whines, nearly writhing against the door now. “Please-”

Finally, _finally_ , Phichit steps in, and his hands land on Seung-gil, one on his neck, the other at his hip. He leans in and touches their foreheads together, and his strong, earthy alpha scent curls around Seung-gil like he can finally breathe again.

“I know it's hard,” Phichit murmurs, his lips so close, “but I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Do you just want me to fuck you? Do you want me to touch you like this?”

“You're not my doctor,” Seung-gil bites out.

Phichit chuckles, and it raises the hairs on the back of the omega's neck. “You're probably closer to your doctor than some of your other friends.”

Seung-gil grunts. “Think of it as a 'friends with benefits' thing,” he manages. “Is that clear enough?”

“That works.” Phichit laughs and shifts just enough to press their lips together. The contact sends an electric shock through Seung-gil, and he whines into it, his arms leaving the door to wrap tight around his friend in turn. After a moment, Phichit's tongue is coaxing his lips open, and Seung-gil responds, letting him inside.

It's hard to think with the heat-haze over everything, but kissing Phichit feels good. Seung-gil hasn't kissed many people in his life, has never considered kissing Phichit, but if he has to spend his heat with someone, he clearly made the right choice.

The back of his legs hit the bed before he's even realized Phichit has moved them. Then the alpha is pulling away, and Seung-gil whimpers loudly at the loss.

“Easy,” Phichit tells him, swooping in for another quick kiss. “Let's get you undressed, hmm?”

Seung-gil acquiesces, raising his arms obediently as the alpha instructs, then allowing him to remove his pants in turn. Finally come his underwear, and the omega whines as he's fully exposed to the air.

Phichit reaches out to touch him again, a comforting hand on his arm, murmuring, “Two more minutes,” before he shucks off his own clothes. Seung-gil is too dazed to do much in the way of helping, merely watching wide-eyed as his friend removes his clothes. He's never seen Phichit naked before.

Phichit grins at his expression. “I'm flattered,” he quips, and crawls onto the bed, urging Seung-gil farther up before gently pressing him down on his back, climbing over him.

Seung-gil's whole body arcs toward him instinctively. “Phichit, please,” he pleads again. “Touch- touch me...”

Phichit takes pity, kneeling and running his hands all over Seung-gil's body. His voice is rough when he asks, “Is it weird if I tell you how gorgeous you are? Maybe just in a 'friends with benefits' way?”

Again, Seung-gil is grateful his face is already red. And then his mind is out the window again as the alpha ducks down, pressing hungry kisses all down his neck and chest. He stops to tease a nipple, and Seung-gil throws his head back, mumbling curses in Korean. Then he moves to the other, and Seung-gil looses the ability to speak altogether.

Phichit kisses him again, slow and sensuous, and everything inside Seung-gil feels hot and wanting, as if he could never get enough of this. “Turn over for me,” Phichit whispers in his ear, and it's like his brain short-circuits. The alpha chuckles softly, and a hand slides under his hip, urging him to move. A moment later, Seung-gil is on his stomach on the bed beneath his friend, instinct urging him to rut against the sheets. He does.

“I never thought I'd see you like this,” Phichit is saying as he takes a film hold of Seung-gil's hips and urges him to kneel up, and _oh_ , yes, that's it, the gentle but insistent touch an omega craves, especially now. Seung-gil positions himself on all fours, breathing harsh and fast, waiting. His hands shake in anticipation, and he can _feel_ slick dripping from his opening and down his thighs. He must look absolutely disgusting...delectable to an alpha.

Seung-gil is about to beg again when a hand leaves his hip to trailing teasingly along his rear so he can tell what Phichit is doing. Then – _ah_ – it dips inside him, trailing through his slick and pressing deep. A noise is bunched out of Seung-gil he couldn't even begin to define except that he needs _more_ and he's _ready_ and surely Phichit must-

He cries out again as Phichit abruptly adds two more fingers, and he can barely feel the stretch.. Heat has prepared his body naturally, and everything in him is just demanding the alpha take him _now_.

“I think you're ready for me,” Phichit says, and Seung-gil could cry. The bed shifts, the hand on his hip adjusts slightly, and then, _god, finally,_ Phichit is guiding his length into him. He's being gentle, painfully slow, and Seung-gil is desperate. The omega slams back against him, taking all of the remaining length at once, and Phichit is startled into a laugh as he works to maintain his balance.

“Don't sugarcoat it,” the alpha teases. “Tell me what you really want.”

“I really want you to fuck me,” Seung-gil bites out, surprising even himself, and is relieved and delighted and _ecstatic_ when Phichit wordlessly obeys. The alpha pulls out and then thrusts back in, working up to a rhythm, harder, faster, and quickly they're rising up together. “Yes-s,” Seung-gil groans, the words shaken out of him by their motions, and Phichit's grip tightens.

“God, Seung-gil,” his friend breathes. “God, you feel amazing.”

Seung-gil whines, because it's still not enough. He manages to rebalance himself, on his knees and one hand, raising the other to stroke his own cock, long hard and weeping between his his legs.

“Uh-uh,” Phichit mutters, “that's my job.” He bats Seung-gil's hand away and takes over, his sure, languid strokes a fantastic counterpart to their rutting that has the omega squeezing his eyes closed and clenching his teeth, overcome by the sheer _feeling_ of it all. It this is what a partially-suppressed heat feels like, he can't image what a fully natural one might be like. He'd never had sex with an alpha before going on the medication shortly after he presented a few years ago.

Between the hard, delightfully rough strokes of Phichit's cock and the gentle, steady ministrations of his hand, Seung-gil is quickly reaching his limit. Then Phichit shifts minutely to graze his prostate, and Seung-gil is finished. Orgasm rushes at him, drowns him in a wave, and he cries out, come spurting across the sheets as he collapses, suddenly boneless and satisfied.

Phichit goes down with him, his hot, sweaty body covering him, making a noise deep in his throat as Seung-gil's muscles tighten around him. The omega whines softly as he feels Phichit's knot start to grow, his thrusts going shallower and slower as it begins to catch on his rim. Soon, his movements are nothing but a sort of gentle grinding, and as Seung-gil starts to come back to himself, he can hear how hard Phichit is panting, the way he's so aroused he can barely draw air in. The thought makes Seung-gil's chest go hot and tight again.

Then, everything goes wrong. Phichit goes rigid as he comes, and his teeth clamp down on the back of Seung-gil's neck. The omega's eyes fly wide, because they both know what that means. “Phichit, no! Phichit-!”

But it's too late. Phichit is locked in place above him, and Seung-gil's head is swimming, a sudden, sharp pain slicing through, dulling almost immediately into a sort of cacophony of light and sound and feeling. Then, a wall of emotion crashes into him like a tidal wave: horror, fear, regret. Lingering arousal.

Phichit's mouth opens, and Seung-gil can feel the tiny soreness of the bondmark like a searing brand. The alpha sits back on his haunches, the two of them bound unequivocally until the knot deflates, but as far away as he can get. “Seung-gil, I...” He sounds like he's crying.

Seung-gil, for his part, has collapsed the rest of the way onto the bed, his face buried in the pillow. He isn't crying. Not yet. The shock isn't done filtering through yet, though he probably will later.

Phichit just bonded them. Even after Seung-gil said he didn't want that. Even after Phichit promised he wouldn't. And a bond is forever. A physical and empathetic bond that can't be broken, can never be replaced by another. Seung-gil and Phichit will be mates for the rest of their lives.

“Seung-gil...”

A hand lands on his back, and Seung-gil flinches away – at least as much as he can. “Don't touch me.” His voice is rough. Broken.

The hand disappears. “Seung-gil, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to, I got carried away, I-” Yes, Phichit is definitely crying. Seung-gil can feel all of that emotion, the truth of it, through the bond, but he doesn't care. Does Phichit not understand that his lack of control, the control he promised he had, is going to be with both of them until the day they die?

“Say something,” Phichit begs.

“I trusted you.”

Phichit makes a sound like all the air has been punched out of him. He shifts atop Seung-gil's legs, like he's trying to find a more comfortable position, murmurs an apology. After, it's the heaviest silence Seung-gil has ever known. He prays Phichit's knot will recede quickly. His own heat already seems to be abating, though that may have something to do with the bond. (And his blood runs cold just thinking the words.)

After long, long minutes, Phichit is able to pull out. He rises and stands beside the bed. Seung-gil won't look at him.

“Seung-gil, what-”

“Leave.”

“Seung-gil-”

“I said leave!”

Without another word, Phichit dresses and is gone. Seung-gil can feel him in his mind even as he walks away, a mess of dark emotions, and he does his best to push the connection to the furthest corner of his mind. Seung-gil pulls a blanket over himself and finally lets the sobs come. They don't stop until he falls asleep.

* * *

When he wakes, Seung-gil doesn't even have the half-moment cliched luxury of having thought it was all a dream – only the cruel facts slamming into him the second he reaches consciousness. In a distant corner of his brain, he can still feel Phichit – will _always_ be able to feel Phichit – but rather than distinct emotion, it's more a warm, blank fuzziness. He's probably still asleep.

As much as he'd like to stay in bed and mope, Seung-gil forces himself to get up and into the shower. He's still sticky with sweat and come and slick from last night, and perhaps being clean will lend him at least a bit of positivity.

As he smooths shampoo through his hair, he tries to take stock of the situation. One: his heat. It seems to be entirely gone now. He barely even has any lingering soreness from last night. That's good. Two: the bond. He squeezes his eyes closed as he thinks of it and hopes his distress won't wake Phichit. Of course he knows some about how the bond works as part of the information everyone gets in grade school sex ed classes, but it's different experiencing it. And it's not as if teachers go into excruciating detail.

He finishes showering, moving mostly on autopilot, and gets out, drying himself off and pulling on his clothes. A glance at his cell phone display informs him he has to meet his coach for practice in an hour. It also shows him has a text from Phichit. His hackles raise immediately as he thumbs it open.

_Do you want me to go to the pharmacy with you?_

Seung-gil clenches his teeth. He wants to shoot back something like _you're not my boyfriend and I don't need you to hold my hand_. His anger almost surprises even himself. But he doesn't send anything back, merely closes down his phone and shoves it in his pocket. He can go the pharmacy himself; it's not a big deal.

When he gets to the nearest one he can find, he tries to hold his head high as he asks for the medication. It's nothing to be ashamed of, he tells himself. Things happen; that's why it exists. The pharmacist only gives him half a look as he hands over the requested product, and Seung-gil is grateful. He swallows the pill in the parking lot with half a bottle of water before he walks back to the rink.

He had skimmed through the little packet that came with, warning of possibly serious side effects, but he also knows they're relatively rare, and he'd much rather deal with a bit of cramping today than a baby nine months from now.

By the time he's entering the arena, he's nearly ten minutes late. Min-so gives him a hard look, and Seung-gil doesn't try to defend himself, only mutters an apology. He's on friendly terms with his coach, but he's not about to tell her what happened last night.

Especially since he's immediately distracted by an unexpected wave of anxiety that he quickly identifies as not his own. Steeling himself, he turns and sees Phichit stepping onto the ice on the other side of the rink, eyes on Seung-gil.

It's shocking the torrent of emotions that runs through the omega. His instincts, his bond, pull immediately toward his mate. He knows that's permanent, too, though much more intense immediately after the bond is formed. His body wants to cross the ice and press itself against Phichit's side, nuzzle into him and-

But his _mind_ is so very different. His real emotions are ice cold, forming themselves into a glare that directs itself at his friend – if they can be called that anymore. Phichit's face falls, and Seung-gil feels it. He turns his back, is met by another long look from his coach.

“Let's get started,” is all he says.

* * *

It's hard to practice with Phichit always in the back of his mind, the roil of his emotions swirling with Seung-gil's own. He keeps flubbing his jumps, earning him sharp words and disapproving expressions from his coach and a demand that he leave whatever's distracting him off the ice. He begs off of practice early, promising he will, and goes back to his room.

He sits on his bed, hands pressed to his face, and makes himself breathe evenly. He has to get over this, if only for now. Phichit may have fucked up both their lives, but Seung-gil can't let it destroy his opportunity here. If he can still place well at this competition, still make it to the Grand Prix Final, that's something. He refuses to lose his career.

He gets to his feet and paces, pushing down the feelings from Phichit once again rising in the back of his head: guilt, anxiety, nerves. A combination of reaction to what happened between them and normal feelings about the competition. Serves him right, Seung-gil thinks bitterly.

When it's finally time for the free skate to begin, he steels himself and heads back to the rink. Phichit is in the locker room with the others, of course, and Seung-gil avoids his eyes, slipping into his costume while being careful to hide the bondmark. The last thing he needs now is their fellow competitors asking about it. He finds Min-so rinkside without another glance in Phichit's direction.

“I hope you've left your issues off the ice like I told you,” she says, and he nods with determination. He's _not_ going to let Phichit ruin this for him. “Good.”

He doesn't have long to worry, because he's skating third. He takes a deep breath as he steps onto the ice and takes his starting position, letting everything else fall away. _Concentrate on the elements like you always do_ , he tells himself. _Pretend last night never happened. This is what's important now._

He's only picking up a low level of anxiety from Phichit, probably about his own program, and Seung-gil wonders momentarily how his own emotions are coming across before his music starts and he loses himself in the program. He counts off the jumping passes and connecting elements in his head, focusing on them one at a time to the exclusion of everything else. The crowd disappears. His coach disappears. Phichit and his feelings disappear.

Seung-gil lands everything without a wobble and comes back to himself in his final position, arms up, to the roar of the crowd. He allows himself a small smile as he bows. His score will be good. The GPF is still within reach.

As he sits in the kiss and cry waiting for his score, he feels strangely calm – that is, until he spots Phichit across the rink and the bond blows open. Phichit is giving him this nervous little smile, and what he feels echoes it. But there's also...happiness? Pride? Of course it's normal for Phichit to be happy for one of his friends who's done well, but it's strange to feel it like this. And, given the situation, it's almost too much to bear. Seung-gil looks away and feels a stab of disappointment from his bondmate.

His score is announced, and he smiles again. He's beaten his personal best to take second place, which is as close to a miracle as he's ever experienced. Only time will tell now if he can keep that spot. Min-so murmurs congratulations, and as soon as they're out of view the cameras, firmly takes his wrist to pull him toward the bleachers.

They'd discussed this before: she knows that whatever's eating him has him wanting to go back to his room and sulk, but she's insistent that they pay the rest of the competitors proper respect by staying for the whole competition. Seung-gil knows she's right, and as much as most of him wants to be as far from Phichit as possible, he's also curious how he'll do. Will he be able to shuck off the distraction as well as Seung-gil had?

The bond is calm now as Seung-gil takes a seat and watches the other man step onto the ice. He looks cool and collected and feels that way, too, impressively. Then, when he starts skating, the bond lights up again, bright with feeling. Happiness, excitement, pride. Seung-gil catches his breath, because, yes, this is what Phichit feels when he's skating. This is what it feels like to have that warmth and joy inside instead of you instead of just seeing it on his face.

And then a darker emotion lances in, once that doesn't match the Thai skater's program. Before Seung-gil can even react to it, Phichit is in the air for a jump, then back down on the ice – back down on his hands and knees. Seung-gil gasps with the rest of the crowd, feeling his bondmate's frustration and disappointment, even as he launches himself back up and continues the program. Seung-gil doesn't need to see the determination on his face or even feel it through the bond; he knows it's there – he's been through the same thing enough times himself.

Phichit finishes the program without any more major errors. He's stiff with displeasure as he bows to the crowd, but he hides it well with his trademark enthusiastic smile and waves. He sits at the kiss and cry with his coach, and the low level of anxiety when waiting for ones score comes through to Seung-gil, another thing he knows only too well. He's hoping for Phichit to still score well, caught in a moment of wanting well for his friend, not thinking of his own anger and hurt over what's happened between them.

And not thinking of what he might be broadcasting through the bond in the other direction. And obviously it's something, because Phichit looks up suddenly, and with pinpoint accuracy catches Seung-gil's eye. Even this far apart, they stare at each other for a long moment before the announcer speaks, and Seung-gil looks away to the score display.

The flood of disappointment is clear and understandable when Phichit lands in third place. It's still possible to make it to the final if none of the remaining skaters outscore him, but that's not especially likely. Seung-gil peeks back, watches Phichit maintain that happy face in front of the cameras before disappearing into the locker room at his earliest opportunity. Seung-gil is jealous; of course his coach doesn't make him stay.

The rest of the competition goes by in a surprising combination of nail-biting and dragging on. By the time the last skater receives his marks, Seung-gil is more than ready to go back to his room and collapse. He can't keep the little flame that's sprung up in his chest down, though: he'd done it – he'd made the final. Despite the long odds, Seung-gil had kept his second place spot, and Phichit had held onto third by the skin of his teeth. Even with this happiness, though, Seung-gil isn't looking forward to standing with the other man on the podium during the medal ceremony.

They both suck it up, though, and put on professional faces for the crowd that night. With only Otabek Altin in the gold medal position between them, it's the closet they've been since the disastrous night before. As Seung-gil holds up his medal and smiles for the cameras, he keeps catches glimpses of Phichit out of the corner of his eye. The other looks like pasting on a smile isn't quite as easy for him; every time his eyes wander in Seung-gil's direction, this pained look seeps onto his face. Seung-gil thinks spitefully that all the skating gossip blogs will be wondering about it.

But he can't say he's exactly pleased himself. Seung-gil is flooded with relief when the three of them are allowed to step off the podium and take their victory laps before posing for individual pictures. He skates as far as he can from Phichit without making it obvious. Being near him is almost physically painful; everything in him yearns to be near his bondmate, and honestly it makes him feel a bit ill. Mentally, he wants anything but to be near the one who did this to him.

Finally, the seemingly endless photographs come to a close, and it's the work of only a few more brief interviews (thankfully asking him about nothing but his skating), and he can escape. Under all his other conflicted feelings, Seung-gil can't help but let his anger at Phichit burn a little hotter. This is his first time making the Grand Prix Final, after all. He should be able to enjoy it, rather than having to worry about accidentally catching his unwilling bondmate's eye or being close to him or somehow having a reporter suss out what's happened and bring it to light.

He collapses onto his bed with a loud sigh. When the committee invites him to perform at the gala, he's going to say no. Min-so won't like it, and his federation probably won't either, but he just can't. Ditto for the banquet. He's going to book the soonest possible flight back to South Korea he can get and put all of this out of his mind. The sooner he's back on home ice polishing everything up for the Final, the better.

Assuming he can someone manage to not focus on the fact that he'll be seeing Phichit face to face again once he's there.

* * *

He manages to make it to the airport by the time Min-so figures out what he's done, and he was right: she's on the phone shouting his ear off about how he's shirking his duties of representing his country and making himself look good for potential sponsors and how she doesn't know what happened between him and Phichit and doesn't have to but he should damn well be mature enough to not let it interfere with his job like this.

Seung-gil just listens to it all as he stares out the window as his plane, waiting to board. He can't fight back, because he knows she's right. On the other hand, though, he knows what's good for him, and right now that's to have time to himself. He needs to be away from Phichit and away from anyone else who might ask questions. And it's not like anything he might do at the gala or banquet is really going to effect his sponsors: he already has a few, and, really, he only managed to get into the final by the skin of his teeth, so no one's going to be too impressed.

His row is announced for boarding, and he's glad to cut his coach off and hang up. _Finally_ , he thinks as he settles into his seat, and then his phone chimes and he looks down, feeling himself go pale. It's a text from Phichit.

_Why aren't you performing at the gala? Are you leaving? I thought we could have a talk first._

Seung-gil turns his phone off and puts it away without answering, but now that he's thinking of Phichit again, he's subconsciously tuned back into the bond. He can feel Phichit's disappointment and worry, and he tries not to let himself feel too happy about it. Seung-gil isn't usually this spiteful, but he's not exactly going to let Phichit off the hook easily after what he's done.

The plane takes off and flies toward his home, and Seung-gil keeps one mental eye on the bond. What is it going to be like to be so far from his bondmate? Was he right about it being better? Or will it be worse? Painful, even? Most pairs tend to stay close together for obvious reasons, so it's not something he's heard a lot about. Maybe he should be researching things like this, he thinks with a pang. Maybe he ought to know more about being bonded now that that's what his life is.

He's glad to find that it's not painful, though, at least for now. Phichit seems to fade from his mind, much as he does when Seung-gil isn't paying attention to the bond. He doesn't go away entirely, but it's almost like looking at someone through the wrong end of a pair of binoculars: fuzzy and far away. If he focuses, he can still feel the distant strains of Phichit's emotions, but they're not as clear or strong as when they were in the same city. Seung-gil gives thanks for that.

Just being back home makes him feel better as well. Jinju is ecstatic to see him when he picks her up from the kennel, and he smiles as he pulls her in for a hug. At least unlike another human, she'll never treat him any different whether he's bonded or not. They go back to the apartment together, and he unpacks slowly. When he can finally bring himself to turn his phone back on, there are more messages from Phichit and Min-so, and he ignores them all.

Grudgingly, he forces himself to make a doctor's appointment, Phichit's statement of y _ou're probably closer to your doctor than some of your other friends_ ringing in the back of his head. Well, so be it. She'll need to know what happened. Seung-gil has no doubts Phichit is clean, but he'll need the dosage of his suppressants adjusted at the very least, and maybe she'll have some pamphlets or something on helping him deal with this.

* * *

Min-so arrives the next day, and they're back on the ice that afternoon. Seung-gil does his best not to appear too sheepish. She glares at him when he appears and gives him a terse run-down of what happened at the gala and banquet – nothing too exciting – then lets it drop. She works him especially hard, though, and Seung-gil sees her frustration in it. He apologizes, briefly and without detail, before he leaves and goes home to nurse his sore muscles.

Life goes back to normal, for the most part. Phichit texts him a few more times, questions of if he's all right, and can they talk, but they taper off when Seung-gil never answers. His doctor frowns at him when he explains what happened but increases his suppressant dose and points him in the direction of a website where he can find more information. Min-so eventually forgives him and lets out her warmer side when she congratulates him and tells him how proud she is that he's finally made the Final and insists that he'll be in tip-top shape when they get there and that he'll do his very best to land on the podium and make his country proud. Phichit and their bond almost fade from his mind; maybe it's the distance, or maybe it's just him getting used to it, but it almost to disappear entirely, except for when Phichit seems to be feeling a particularly strong emotion. And even then, when it pops in, Seung-gil can usually push it away.

Then, one night shortly after he's come back from walking Jinju, there's a knock on the door. Seung-gil squints in confusion as he goes to answer it. He rarely has visitors. His parents live in a different city, and he essentially has no friends outside of skating – and even those he hardly ever sees outside the rink.

He opens the door, nudging Jinju back from where she's trying to excitedly greet the visitor, and when he looks up – it's like being hit by a truck. His mind fills with _nerves, worry, determination, shock_.

Phichit Chulanont is standing in front of him, his face set, hands gripping the straps of the backpack he's wearing.

“W-what are you doing here?” Seung-gil manages, wondering desperately how he hadn't known his bondmate was so close. Had he really grown so good at blocking him out?

“You've been avoiding me,” Phichit says bluntly, but the way he shifts his pack betrays his nerves. “And I needed to talk to you.”

Seung-gil's emotions ratchet up immediately. “Don't you think there was a reason for that?” he bites out. He'd been doing so well, and now he's thrown all out of whack again, Phichit's emotions bleeding into his until he's not sure where the line between them is. “I clearly didn't want to speak so you, so you showed up at my home? That's a bit invasive.”

Phichit's mouth drops open as if he hadn't actually considered that last bit, but then he gathers himself. His voice is gentler when he speaks again. “Seung-gil, we really need to talk about this. We're bonded. Ignoring it isn't going to make it not have happened.”

Seung-gil clenches his fists in frustration. _Go away, go away,_ his mind is begging, but he knows he's not going to. Denial had worked for awhile, and now here's Phichit back in his face again. Well, maybe it'll at least be better to have it out now instead of at the Grand Prix Final where a distraction would be much more devastating. He sighs loudly and holds the door open. “I guess you'd better come in.”

A tiny smile curls Phichit's face, _relief_ in the back of Seung-gil's head, and the Thai steps inside, reaching out to scratch Jinju's head as he passes. “Thank you,” he says quietly. Seung-gil grunts.

Phichit drops his backpack in the living room, sitting down on a chair, and Seung-gil seats himself at the farthest end of the sofa. “Well, out with it then,” he bites out.

Phichit sighs. His eyes flit around the room for a long moment before he clearly forces himself to look at Seung-gil. Seung-gil is the first to look away. “I didn't expect this to happen, okay? I didn't want it either. Do you understand that?”

“I trusted you.” The words still burn under Seung-gil's skin as strong as the night he first said them. “You promised me you would be all right.”

“It was a mistake!” Phichit insists, his distress hitting Seung-gil like a slap. “I thought I would be!”

“Well, you weren't,” Seung-gil answers. “And look what you did. This is my life, Phichit. I was going to find some to bond with eventually, you know. Someone to love and have a family with. Now who would want me?” He laughs, cold and desperate, and the sound seems to startle Jinju. She stands in the middle of the living room with her ears down, looking between the two of them.

“I...I didn't know you wanted that,” Phichit admits quietly. “You never seemed... But, anyway, do you really think I would have taken that away from you on purpose?”

Seung-gil makes a frustrated noise and flings out his arms in a shrug. “Does it matter? It's not like your _intent_ changes anything now.”

Phichit's face pinches in anger. “Seung-gil, you need to listen to me! Don't you think I wanted that, too? To have a life with someone who loves me and be bonded to them by choice? I know we're just friends, okay? This is not some fairy tale where we make a mistake and then fall in love and live happily ever after anyway. Now I'm just the alpha who mated an omega and abandoned him.”

“And I'm that abandoned omega,” Seung-gil answers sharply. “Everyone's going to wonder what I did wrong that even my alpha didn't want me.”

“Seung-gil-”

But Seung-gil pushes back against the upset coming off of him, even more potent now. “I know you can feel what I'm feeling – so _listen_.” He jabs a finger at his own head. “You know how upsetting it is just to have you here. I know you can get this. That's why I didn't want to talk to you. You screwed up everything, for both of us, forever! Do you understand that?” He's shouting by the end of it, tears starting to leak down his face. Whimpering, Jinju pads over to him, and he sinks his fingers into her fur, seeking comfort.

Phichit has his jaw clenched, looking at the floor. “I see,” he says, and it's more broken than cold. Seung-gil throws up as much of a wall as he can, blocking the bond. “I'll see myself out.”

Moments later, the front door closes behind him, and Seung-gil lets his tears flow. A lot of those were words he hadn't said aloud to anyone, hadn't even really let himself consider, and now they're out in the open for both of them. Jinju whines again, licking at his face, and Seung-gil clutches her close.

* * *

So that had gone about as horribly as it could have – not that Seung-gil had expected much else when he'd seen Phichit unannounced at his door. Imagine him trying to claim innocence, blame the way he'd wrecked both of their lives on a simple “accident.” Seung-gil is as angry as he is hurt.

So perhaps it's only pure masochism that has him tapping into the bond now and then throughout the night. Or perhaps it's just that, knowing he's in proximity, Seung-gil's bonded-omega brain just can't help itself. Either way, once he's had a good cry and picked himself up, he keeps on tuning in. He can tell Phichit isn't even trying to hide himself: his own pain and anger is right there in the open like a beacon for Seung-gil to see.

And see it he does, his own emotions steaming. It seems they've come to a head, but where to go from here? Seung-gil obviously doesn't want to be near Phichit like this, but can he really cut him out of his life entirely? He doesn't know if he can, isn't sure he wants to. Phichit is his friend, someone he still cares about under everything else. One of very few close friends he has, truth be told.

Seung-gil busies himself with his nightly routine, trying to keep things as close to normal as possible. He eats dinner and does the dishes. Feeds Jinju and gets her settled for the night. Puts in a load of laundry. All the time feeling Phichit in the back of head. Gradually, his bondmate's feelings go from the dirty, tangled mess they've been when he left to something dimmer, more full of misery. By the time Seung-gil is ready to get into bed, the emotions coming off of Phichit are all melancholy and anxious – and strangely fuzzy and distant. Seung-gil hesitates, his hand on the doorknob of his bedroom. He can't quite put his finger on what that emotion is. He wracks his brain, tries to plug in to Phichit more, not truly knowing why – and then it hits him.

His bondmate is drunk. Seung-gil growls, squeezing the doorknob in frustration. Seung-gil shouldn't worry. He knows that. Phichit is an adult, and even if he's in a strange city, it's not like that's something he's not used to with all his traveling for competitions. And it's not like he's _actually_ Seung-gil's bondmate in any way other than the physical; it's not like Seung-gil needs to be checking up on him.

Seung-gil enters the room and sits on the edge of the bed, resenting the worry that nibbles at his insides. His hand goes to his pocket as he considers pulling out his phone. Maybe he should check on him... After all, even if they're not in the best place right now, Phichit is still his friend, and Seung-gil wouldn't want him to get hurt.

Seung-gil takes out his phone and opens a text. What to say? He violently rebels against anything that would make him sound like a worried boyfriend. That's not what this is. He tunes into the bond again, finds it even fuzzier than before and whirling and mixing like a dark storm. He clenches his teeth and types out a message. _Are you all right?_

 _lik you care,_ he gets back a minute later. _our'e not my mate anyway_

Seung-gil grits his teeth. _You're drunk._

_so_

His eyes close for a long moment as he pushes through the frustration. _I'm your friend. I'm worried about you. Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?_

There's no answer. Seung-gil waits. And waits. Twenty harrowing minutes go by, and still nothing. Seung-gil's worry ratchets up wildly. Anything could be happening to Phichit, he thinks. He could be passed out in an alley. He could be hurt. Someone could be hurting him while he's not in his right mind.

That settles it. Seung-gil pockets his phone again, grabs his keys, and makes for the door. His friend is out there somewhere, and despite everything, he's not going to rest until he knows he's safe. Seung-gil hits the sidewalk and pauses, cursing inwardly. He has no idea where Phichit is, and there are any number of bars in this city. A quick check of social media gives him no clues.

The bond? Seung-gil knows it gets stronger when you're closer to your mate, but he's not sure it can actually be used to track them. _I have no other choice,_ he decides, and sets off, monitoring the bond closely. It seems to be getting even worse, Phichit's feelings not much more than a queasy blur at this point. He speeds his pace, trying desperately to determine where they're coming from.

He reaches a downtown area, a strip with three bars he's been to once or twice before, and hopes his intuition hasn't led him astray. He ducks into the first bar, a small, run-down type of place, and looks around. Seeing no one who resembles Phichit, he leaves again and moves to the second one. This place is bigger, rowdier, full of people dancing and yelling and carrying on. A quick glance shows nothing, and when a bartender asks what Seung-gil is looking for, he gives him a short, terse description of Phichit. He's in luck. The bartender has seen him – leaving and heading for a change of scenery. The bartender had recommended the third bar at the end of the the street. Seung-gil thanks him and leaves at a dead run.

In the third bar, he spots Phichit immediately and feels relief wash over him. His friend is slumped at a front table with two other men, the table between them littered with glasses and bottles, most of them empty.

Phichit perks up immediately when he spots him. “Seung-gil!” He turns to whisper-shout to his companions. “This's him, the guy I was tellin' you about.” He turns back and mutters to Seung-gil, “They think you're kind of a dick, too.”

Seung-gil does his best not to let any of that rankle him. Phichit is drunk; he doesn't know what he's saying.

“Dude, I don't know what your deal is, I but I think your friend needs to go home,” one of the other men says to Seung-gil.

“Nahhhh,” Phichit drawls. “I'm good here with you guys.”

The other man raises an eyebrow.

“I think you should come home with me,” Seung-gil says with as much authority as he can muster. He wonders if as inebriated as he is Phichit can feel any of the emotions coming off of him. If he could, would that make him more likely to listen or less?

“Aw, come on,” Phichit whines. “You yell at me like that, and I'm just s'posed to do what you say after? Am I right, guys?” He flags down the bartender as he passes. “Another round!”

“I'm cutting you off,” the bartender says flatly. “Your new friends are right.” He leaves.

Phichit gives a dramatic sigh. “Can't find good service anywhere,” he mutters.

Seung-gil clamps a hand around his shoulder. “Come on, Phichit, we're leaving.”

Phichit rolls his eyes dramatically. “ _Fi-ine_ , but only cuz I'm tired, and your couch looked comfy.” He stumbles to his feet and waves awkwardly at the other two. “Good to meet you guys...”

They wave back skeptically, and the first says, “I don't envy the morning you're going to have, buddy.”

Seung-gil swings Phichit's forgotten backpack over his shoulder and manages to wrestle his friend out to the street. The drunken man seems barely able to walk. “You're going to have to work with me,” Seung-gil grunts. “My apartment isn't that far from here, but I can't carry you.”

“'M _fine_ ,” Phichit insists, jerking away and starting to walk. He stumbles and nearly goes down before Seung-gil is able to grab his arm. “Hmm, maybe not...”

Seung-gil sighs, wrapping an arm around him firmly and steering him toward the apartment. An awkward silence descends between them, though he doubts Phichit notices it in his state.

They reach the apartment without much further incident and stumble up the stairs. Jinju greets them at the door, dancing excitedly around their feet. Phichit enthusiastically leans over to pet her and nearly loses his footing. Seung-gil drags him into the living room and deposits him on the couch. “Sleep it off,” he instructs. “I'll see you in the morning.”

“Heyy. Seung-gil.”

Seung-gil's fingers are on the light switch. He turns back.

The expression on Phichit's face is shakier than he's ever seen it. “'M sorry. I never meant to do this to us.”

“Go to sleep, Phichit.”

* * *

_I never meant to do this to us._ The words echo in Seung-gil's ears as he changes and gets into bed. He's been waiting for an apology this whole time, but he never expected it to come like this. He never expected it to make him feel worse – to make him feel _guilty_.

_I never meant to do this to us._

Because that's just it, isn't it? Phichit had admitted guilt, but he'd also touched on the thing that Seung-gil had somehow not fully recognized: _I never meant to do this to **us**_. Because Seung-gil hadn't been the only one effected. He hadn't been the only one to lose something. Phichit's actions had hurt Seung-gil, yes, but they had hurt them both. While Seung-gil had been busy blaming him for everything, he hadn't stopped to realize that he was hurting to. What else did this night show if not that? Phichit wasn't the type to go out and get sloshed because he had a bad day. Seung-gil trembles, thinking of how badly his words earlier that night had to have hurt him.

Seung-gil is hurt, too, of course nothing changes that, but now he realizes he's not alone. He and Seung-gil may not be true bondmates in every sense of the word, by they are in the same boat. They understand each other. Why should he hate Phichit, the one person in the world who understands him better than anyone else at this point? Seung-gil lays his head on the pillow, feeling somehow lighter than he has since Grenoble. Tomorrow, he's going to make this right.

* * *

In the morning, Seung-gil takes his time getting dressed. It's a Saturday, so he doesn't have practice, and though he wants to fix things with Phichit, he's not exactly looking forward to what he knows will be a tough, if productive, conversation. Eventually, though, he can't procrastinate any longer and steps into the living room.

Phichit is dressed and sitting on the couch looking decidedly worse-for-wear. Seung-gil can feel the nausea and anxiety rolling off of him – not a great combination. His friend looks up as soon as he enters the room.

“I'm sorry about last night,” Phichit babbles immediately. “You shouldn't have had to do that. I made a fool of myself.” He looks down, toes at the carpet awkwardly. “I would have made breakfast to try and make it up to you, but I didn't want to pry into your stuff.”

Seung-gil smiles. “It's all right. Do you need some aspirin?”

“Yeah, that would be good.” Phichit looks at him tentatively, clearly sensing his improved mood and wary of it.

Seung-gil fetches him some from the medicine cabinet, accepts his quiet thanks, and leads him to the kitchen. “I don't cook much,” he warns. “But I make a mean bagged muffin mix.”

Phichit smiles, again hesitant. “That sounds good.”

Seung-gil rummages around in the cupboard for the mix. “I have chocolate chip and blueberry.”

“You pick,” Phichit demures, sitting down at the breakfast bar.

There's silence in the kitchen as Seung-gil mixes up the blueberry and puts the muffins in the oven. When he finally turns back, he finds Phichit watching him, picking probably unconsciously at the fraying hem of his shirt.

“So, I think we should talk,” Seung-gil starts.

“Yeah?” Phichit agrees uncertainly.

“Yeah.” Seung-gil rounds the counter and sits next to him, forcing himself to meet his gaze. “Last night got me thinking,” he begins. He takes a deep breath and pushes on, using all his fortitude to keep his gaze from sliding away anxiously. “I've been too hard on you about all this. You didn't mean for what happened to happen. It was an accident. I understand that.” It feels so good to believe it and to say it aloud. “And it's messed you up as much as it has me. I didn't understand that until I saw you last night. Phichit...I'm sorry.”

He's alarmed to see his friend's eyes instantly fill with tears, a wave of strong emotion hitting him. “I'm sorry,” Phichit chokes, wiping his eyes. “I'm just so relieved to hear you say that.” He gives Seung-gil a watery smile. “I've wanted to talk to you like this ever since it happened. It's killing me that this happened. I want you to know that. Making a mistake and messing myself up I get, but it's not fair that I dragged you down, too. Believe me, I would do anything to fix it.”

“I know.” Seung-gil fights back mist in his own eyes. “I understand.” He gives a tiny smile. “I can kind of feel how sincere you are.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Phichit lets out a watery laugh. “So...we're still friends?”

“Of course.” Seung-gil reaches out to squeeze his arm. “Better friends than most, you could say. How many other friends can basically read each other's minds?”

“Not many that aren't actually soulmates.” Phichit smiles, and Seung-gil has never felt relief so strong. Another moment passes, and Phichit's expression falters. “What you said last night...about no one wanting you now that you're mated. Seung-gil, you know that's not true, right? These things happen – stuff like this, and people dying or splitting up for other reasons...you'll get a second chance. Someone would have to be an idiot to disregard you solely because of that.”

“Thanks, Phichit. And the same for you...I don't want you to think I believe you're abandoning me. We were never supposed to mate; we agreed on that before any of this happened. I don't hold that against you.”

“I would take care of you, you know, if that's what you needed,” Phichit tells him earnestly. “It would be the responsible thing.”

“To make an honest omega of me?” Seung-gil teases lightly, afraid to offend but to wanting to lighten the mood.

Phichit's eyes crinkle, his amusement warm and soft in Seung-gil's head. “Exactly.”

“That won't be necessary. Though maybe we do one of those 'if we're both still single at forty, we marry each other' romcom things,” Seung-gil jokes.

“Deal!” They laugh together, and then the buzzer for the muffins goes off, and they eat. It's so good to be together and talking again, Seung-gil barely knows what to think. Their happiness and relief feeds off of each other, blending into one.

Phichit stays for the weekend, the two of them hanging out playing video games and chatting like old times, and when he leaves on Sunday night, they part with a tight hug that has the bond singing, already making plans to meet up again at the Grand Prix Final.

* * *

In Nagoya, Japan, the Grand Prix Final goes well for both Seung-gil and Phichit – but just as well for their competitors. Phichit is over the moon to secure the silver metal, and Seung-gil can barely be disappointed by his just-off-the-podium finish in fourth. After all, that still makes him the fourth-best skater on the Grand Prix circuit, and who could feel bad about that?

Especially given all they've gone through to be here, both in their skating and their relationship, they're both beyond grateful. Phichit vows to match or best his place next year, and Seung-gil is right beside him in front of the reporter, voicing his intent to reach the podium himself as soon as he can manage. They walk off with their arms around each other's shoulders, already chattering away about the rest of the competitions still to come this season.

* * *

Years pass, and Seung-gil's life continues much as it did before, aside from the occasional interruption by an emotional outburst from his bondmate. They probably talk to each other even more outside of competitions now, ever-curious as to the cause when that happens. Seung-gil never goes into heat during a competition again, and he starts to accept that he'll never know why things happened like they did. He doesn't believe in destiny and all that, but maybe what happened as a result wasn't completely horrible after all.

He and Phichit both keep skating and keep improving. Two years after forming their bond, Phichit lands a gold at the GPF and bursts into tears of pride and gratitude as the world cheers, Seung-gil not least among them. Seung-gil himself is always just out of sight of the gold, managing once to achieve a silver, to much praise from his coach, his bondmate, the rest of the skating community.

And then there's their personal lives. Seung-gil watches as Phichit starts to spend more and more time with Guang Hong Ji and Leo de la Iglesia. The three have always been friends, but now they're even closer. It seems that Guang Hong and Leo have more than enough love between them to share. Seung-gil sees the three of them giggle and blush and kiss, jealous, but not in a bitter way. He's happy for Phichit, so happy he's found two people who love and understand him.

Seung-gil continues to keep to himself. He's always been quiet, finding it hard to get close to people. It's not entirely because he fears a potential partner's reaction to the bond, though it would be a lie to say it wasn't a big factor.

As he reaches the age where he's starting to consider planning for his retirement from competition, a new skater transfers to Seung-gil's rink. Park Chung is unusual for a skater, short and stocky where most are long and lithe, but the way he uses his body, the power in his jumps and how every movement is larger than life, make him impossible not to watch. Add to that the shy smile, his habit of running his hands through always-messy black hair, the way he's soft-spoken off the ice but won't say no to anything when he skates – in short, Seung-gil is smitten.

Perhaps even more so when Park asks him out for coffee one day after practice, voice soft but determined in a way that leaves no room for doubt. A few dates later, sitting across from each other at that same coffee shop, Seung-gil knows this is getting serious, and he wants that, he really does. But it means there's a discussion they need to have, and it could ruin everything. It needs to happen, though, and the sooner the better, so he gathers himself and speaks.

“Park...there's something I need to tell you.”

His boyfriend's brow furrows as he carefully sets his mug down. “I'm listening.”

Seung-gil's gaze darts away, but he makes himself look back. He really likes this man, and he's determined to be honest with him. “I have a bondmate already,” he blurts out.

Park frowns thoughtfully. “Okay...what does that mean exactly?”

Seung-gil's cheeks heat as his eyes finally drop to the table. He fumbles out the whole story. “Years ago, I went into heat at a competition. I had one of my friends help me through it, and we agreed not to bond, but, well, there was an accident. He didn't mean to. We're not actually together. We never were.”

“Hey.” Park's hand slides across the table and covers Seung-gil's gently. “Look at me.”

Seung-gil does and finds a soft expression on the other man's face.

“Did you really think that was going to make me second-guess this?” He gestures between them.

“Well...” Seung-gil murmurs. “I wouldn't really blame you. Most people want to bond with the person they're with when – well, if – it gets that serious.”

Park gives a tiny laugh, and Seung-gil's face furrows. “Was that funny?”

“No, of course not, I'm sorry.” Park squeezes his hand. “Just ironic. I've been trying to figure out how to tell you the same thing.”

“The same...?” Seung-gil stares at him.

“Well, not exactly the same.” Park's free hand nervously ruffles his hair. “You see, I've already been bonded, too.”

“Oh,” Seung-gil breathes. His eyes go wide. “What happened? If I can ask?”

“It's fine. It was awhile back. I had a girlfriend. She...she died, in a car crash.” He takes a shuddering breath and meets Seung-gil's eyes. “Honestly, I don't think I could stand to bond with someone after that even if I could.”

The facts suddenly click in Seung-gil's mind, and his gut goes icy. “You felt her...”

Park nods, his eyes dark. “I could never, ever do that again. I can't even imagine...”

Seung-gil turns over his hand and laces their fingers together. “We make quite a pair don't we?” he says gently.

“We sure do.” Park smiles at him, soft and affectionate. “Do you feel better now that that's out in the open? Got any more dark secrets you want to tell me?”

Seung-gil giggles. “No; I'm not really that interesting aside from that.”

“Oh, I think you are,” Park purrs, and he pulls Seung-gil in for a kiss. When they part, he stays close. “Do you want to stay at my place tonight?”

Seung-gil shivers, knowing immediately what he's really asking. He nods, unable to quite form a response, and Park grins, pulling him in for another kiss, deep and long. “Let's get going,” he murmurs into his mouth.

* * *

By the time they get back to his house, they're having a hard time keeping their hands off of each other. As soon as the front door has closed behind them, Park's hands are under Seung-gil's jacket, pushing it off his shoulders as he sucks a mark into his neck.

“Wait!” Seung-gil gasps, clutching at his boyfriend's sides.

He stops immediately. “Is something wrong?”

Seung-gil flushes, his hands trembling a little. “It's just...I haven't...since the bond.”

Park's eyes go impossibly tender as he removes his hands from his jacket and brushes sweaty hair back from Seung-gil's face, fingers lingering to stroke his cheek. “I'll be gentle, then.”

Seung-gil silently twines their hands together, letting Park pull him close and lead him to the bedroom.

Later, Phichit will text demanding to know what all the warm fuzzies were about. Two years after that, he'll be ironically asking the same thing through happy tears at Seung-gil and Park's wedding as his boyfriends do their best to confiscate his champagne, and Seung-gil will be grateful as anything to have him there, regretting nothing that brought him to this moment.


End file.
